An Apple's Cider
by Dr. Edmund Sirus
Summary: Applejack's feeling a little full this coming cider season and needs her brother's help to alleviate the burden. [Breastplay] [Lactation] [Cider Tits] [Implied Incest] [No Sex] [Anthro] [Applejack] [Big Mac]


Applejack couldn't stop the blush enveloping her face. She wouldn't be nearly so nervous about the situation if one, her aching chest wasn't causing her no end of grief. Two, what it would take to relieve said ache. And three, her brother standing directly behind her.

"Yer back turned?"

"...Eeyup." She could hear the nervousness in his voice. Consarnit, as if it were more awkward for him than it was for her to ask him to help. She wasn't sure if she wanted to get it over fast and be done with it, or slow so her nerves would settle down, but her shaking hands had enough trouble unbuttoning her flannel shirt as it was. She tried to take a breath to steady her nerves, but stuck here out in the barn alone with her brother to fix this little problem of hers didn't feel like a balm for the situation.

She undid her flannel shirt and tossed it aside on the hay bales. The fields had already been reaped and bound tight with twine. Already an entire wall of the barn from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, was flush with hay. But what was in front of her was what mattered now. A piece of plywood had been placed on a pair of sawhorses with a single tin bucket resting upon that. Alone they meant nothing to her, but what was about to take play was a whole 'nother matter.

A baggy, white undershirt meant mostly to absorb excess sweat was her last little bit of clothing shielding her chest from the stale, stuffy barn air. If she could get hayfever it would have been a nightmare. A hind hoof stomped nervously as she grasped the hum of her shirt and pulled, ignoring the two large splotches across the surface amidst the sweat stains.

Her breasts popped free from their confinement. Normally a decent C cup, her breasts had bloated to a ridiculous G cup. Even the slight rustle of fabric over her chest, especially her tender nipples, had caused her to moan unintentionally.

"Sis?"

"Never you mind," she said in a huff. This was bad enough already without her body thinking for her. She approached the sawhorses and placed the bucket directly in front of her. She couldn't help but give a sardonic cry as she couldn't even see it; her breasts were enough to hide her shoes, let alone the bucket meant to alleviate her burden.

"A-alright then," she said, a hitch rising in her throat. She heard Big Mac approaching her from behind. For the briefest moment she pictured an entirely different scenario with her burly brother approaching his topless sister. She quickly shook that thought form her mind. Things were doing to get dirty enough without her mind wandering in the gutter.

He was hesitating. Boy had plenty o' reason to, but now she wanted this over and done with. "Just come on now, Mac."

Her tits ached with their load. Even now she could feel herself leaking and hear the _drip_ of her lactating breasts, the sweet scent of the freshest apple cider the farm had to offer. Big Mac had shook himself out of his stupor and was now standing directly behind her. Now she wanted to turn around and get his rear and gear so they could go back to the house and forget the milking altogether, but she was afraid one of them was going to chicken out should their eyes meet. Not looking made it feel impersonal. Business.

Celestia, her pants were damp.

Big Mac's calloused hands glossed across her chest. She gave a reflexive gasp of surprise and his hands twitched away. She was so very full it was almost painful. Certainly she had let it go for far too long, dreading this very moment. That and every other previous moments she had to ask her brother to come out to the barn with her with a bucket in hand. But like a real trooper, Mac had never once turned her down.

His hands returned to the sides of her tits and she had the strength to not squirm or moan. His hands moved forward across her supple flesh until they stopped on her leaking nipples.

"Jus'... jus' keep goin'," she moaned shamelessly as he teased the sensitive bud. With that he wrapped a hand around each tit and began to squeeze.

She bit her lip to stifle the squeal. The farm's milking equipment was built for a cow's udders, but it was in no way equipped to deal with her assets. This was the only way to lighten the load. Little by little using brief tugs and squeezes, Big Mac milked his little sister. Her breasts were already so sensitive and being milked like a common cow for her bounty... as much as she hated it, heat flooded her abdomen. Soft coos of pleasure graced the air and she couldn't help but push her chest into her brother's rough hands.

"Oh, Mac." The words were past her lips before she could stop herself. He was always so gentle with her. There was no way she'd be able to trust her friends with such an act. Hell, Rainbow Dash would want to drink straight from the tap. Here she felt safe, as awkward as the first steps usually felt.

Something hard poked at her backside and she froze up a little. She knew exactly what it was. A part of her was scared of what it might mean, but the part or her that took over during every milking took delight in the fact that her brother took pleasure in her body. He just stood behind her like a true gentlecolt, gentlely milking her swollen tits as she filled the pail.

He stopped for a moment to get a better grip and she could swear he was stroking her boobs. Nevertheless, he rubbed the fluid between his fingers and finished his job, milking the endowed farmer until he breasts returned to a more manageable size. All the while she could feel that hardness throbbing in the small of her back, the reason unspoken between them.

"Ah... Ah think yer just 'bout empty."

She blinked. She had lost herself in the moment that felt like it normally took a lot longer than it did.

"Thanks, bro." His hands removed themselves form her tits and she felt the cold air across her nipples. The warmth was now gone from her and despite her mammaries shrunken to a more manageable state, feeling another's touch was much more preferable. Only a slight dribble fell from her nipples now.

He wasn't looking at her, and she wasn't looking at him. The moment had passed and the rush of weirdness and familiar taboo returned. Until next time, when the milking would begin again.

3


End file.
